


Good Enough

by mansikka



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Jealous Evan "Buck" Buckley, M/M, Self-Doubt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 13:21:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22880377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mansikka/pseuds/mansikka
Summary: Buck loves Eddie. How will he ever be good enough for Eddie to love him back?
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 314





	Good Enough

It’s not that Eddie invites the attention. He doesn’t purposely seek out the way people look at him, or do any of the thoughtful, endearing things he does purposely to _get_ that attention, Buck thinks, scowling over at the bar where Eddie is ordering. Eddie's just _everything_; just because he _is_.

No, it’s not his fault; neither his amiable nature nor the fact that he is, hands down, the hottest guy in just about every room he walks into, and a fair few places outside those rooms as well. Buck would know. He's not been able to take his eyes off Eddie ever since he showed up at the firehouse, has been half-stupid around him ever since. No; it is definitely _not_ Eddie's fault that Buck recognizes just how gorgeous he is all of the time. The onus for that particular awareness lies purely on Buck’s shoulders. Though perhaps if Eddie didn’t look so, well, _perfect_, every time he did anything, like _exist_, well. Buck wouldn’t have half the trouble he does dragging his eyes elsewhere.

Half the time, Buck thinks, shifting in his seat with increasing fury as the barista at the bar where Eddie is ordering stares back at Eddie in utter delight, leaning forward on his forearms to peer over the counter and help Eddie look at the choice of food on offer; half the time, he can pretend he’s oblivious to it, or laugh it off, play along even. When waitresses swoon at Eddie's attentiveness with Christopher, or Eddie has that serious look on his face whenever they're working, Buck gets what thoughts must be running through their minds. The look that is yet to fail to make _Buck _swoon; never mind everyone else around them.

Buck shifts in his seat again at the thought of Eddie giving him _that_ look for entire other reasons while they're alone, and curses at himself for letting his mind wander. Now is really, honestly, truly not the time. And hell, could that bastard barista be any more obvious? Because now he is draped over that counter running his fingertips up the length of the tattoos on his arms, and Eddie's eyes are on them; riveted, whether out of that _politeness_ or in genuine interest, Buck can’t tell from where he is sitting. But it’s enough to leave him seething, ready to storm out of the coffee bar they’ve come to—just the two of them, he thinks, sulking—and throw himself into the car and wait. For Eddie to order, for Eddie to get yet another number pressed into his fist, for the hell that is _watching _this all unfold to be diminished somehow by distance. Though even that distance will only take the edge off Buck's anger, and barely, at that.

Okay, so it’s less than half the time he’s okay with people flirting _at _Eddie, Buck thinks, and is very adamant about it being _at_, and not _with_. Because although Eddie isn’t oblivious, and has told him as much on several occasions, it is still painful to see it. Buck would be _devastated_ if one of these flirtations were to really catch Eddie's eye. Even when Eddie looks at him like he is _everything_ to him. Even if Eddie melts against him in relief like Buck is the only thing that can soothe him after a difficult day.

But today, today has got to be some special kind of hell reserved for Buck. The receptionist at the doctor’s surgery simpered over Eddie first thing this morning on their first call out of the day, eyes drifting over Eddie as though figuring out where to start eating first. Then at the motel that had almost been burnt to the ground because of a faulty heater, a guest lingered her gaze over Eddie when they had finally put the fire out, as though he was a slab of meat.

At the grocery store where they’d picked up some food for Bobby to cook some dinners with, this _kid_, who had to be no more than 19 at oldest despite the muscle of his arms, _leaned _into Eddie as he reached for something on a top shelf, all but purring up against him. And now, _barista guy _is turning on all the charm he’s got. Buck growls under his breath, trying not to grind his teeth as he watches.

Chim didn't help at all today, noting just about every one of those interactions, and winding Buck up for it. It’s not malicious, and it isn’t anything Buck’s not invited himself having been in denial about how he feels about Eddie for so long, but still. While he isn't looking for sympathy because he knows his behavior in the past has earned him all this teasing, what he _would _like is a whole lot of not talking about it. A good deal of not putting ideas in his head that just unleash the voices in there reminding Buck he’ll never be good enough for anyone to stick around for, never mind Eddie. Not that he _wants_ anyone but Eddie, of course.

Buck shifts in his seat again, pushing back against it, looking down at his fingers tangled in his lap, and telling himself to quit his self-pitying. And then Eddie is back. Effortlessly sliding into the seat beside him with a soft chuckle, a slip of paper scrunched up in his fingers that he screws up into a ball, and carelessly tosses on the table. Not hiding it, though not being obvious about it, Buck thinks, telling his stomach that it is not jolting, telling his heart there is no reason for it to be sinking at all.

“You ever think about getting more tattoos?” Eddie asks, his tone mild and mildly interested, as though this is a new concept he has just come across and wants to find out more. Eddie _likes_ his tattoos, has turned _that_ look on him on more than one occasion after showers at the firehouse, leaving Buck reciting the fire manual just to keep his thoughts from wandering inappropriately while they're at work. Buck has lost sleep thinking of Eddie worshipping those tattoos—and every other part of him—with his tongue, teeth, and oh so clever hands. Buck would tattoo himself head to toe, right here in this cafe, if it meant _barista guy_ being off Eddie's periphery.

“Depends,” Buck replies, trying not to let his voice come out as flat and despairing as it already is. _Dammit_. Eddie's gaze is turned on him immediately, shrewd and taking everything in, appearing to catalog every nuance of expression Buck feels himself making, and frowning for it. He opens his mouth to speak, but Buck cuts him off, talks about picking Christopher up from school, maybe surprising him with homemade burgers since Christopher likes making them so much.

“Do you have any ideas? For tattoos. If you did want to get another one?” Eddie asks, sparking off a thousand different responses. But then _barista guy _is appearing beside them, and shattering those _domestic_ images forming in Buck’s mind, imagining doors slammed in certain faces instead. Eddie is polite, as he is always polite, when _he _lays their coffees and food out on their table, lingering his eyes over Eddie's face far too many seconds too long. When he turns away, approximately a decade later to Buck's mind, he blatantly looks back at Eddie as he makes his way back to the counter. Eddie doesn't look, his attention taken from talk of tattoos to looking over their lunch. They are both starving after a long shift.

“I thought you'd like this,” Eddie says, and Buck looks down from glaring at the back of the barista’s head, to the sound of Eddie tapping at the side of his plate. Buck’s heart sinks again, because although Eddie unknowingly tortures him by attracting all the flirting in a ten-mile radius wherever he is, he is also _so_ thoughtful and considerate about things like this; knowing what Buck wants sometimes even before he does himself.

“Looks great. Thanks, Eddie,” Buck smiles, picking up a sandwich that is so big it needs both hands, and contains so many of his favorite things. If only he had an appetite. If only every mouthful isn’t going to stuff in a reminder that he isn’t ever quite _enough_.

But Eddie is watching intently, so Buck eats with enthusiasm anyway, tries hard to engage in easy conversation, and tries not to watch Eddie's tongue dart out when a spot of mayonnaise escapes from his own sandwich. Eddie makes this content little noise of approval that Buck recognizes from whenever Eddie is _truly_ hungry. Buck feels his lips flicker into a smile but schools it in; Eddie turns and grins warmly at him anyway with his cheeks bursting like a chipmunk, clearly using Buck’s own sense of humor to try to cheer him up. His _sulking_ is that obvious then, huh?

Buck sighs to himself, as though that can shake away his souring mood, and their conversation gets easier as he forces out more words. They talk about Christopher and Maddie, what they’ll do when they get home, and make observations about other people in the coffee bar they’re in. _Barista guy_ makes another appearance to _check everything is okay_, and Buck bites back all of the selfish retorts he feels like saying, leaving Eddie to politely nod and tell him thanks. When he leaves them again, Eddie's eyes narrow shrewdly in on Buck’s face, but as before, he says nothing.

Three more times _barista guy_ makes excuses to be conveniently wandering by their table, and three more times he goes to ridiculous lengths to get Eddie's attention. Eddie's expression for him turns from polite, to bemused, to pretending not to notice him, and each time the guy passes Buck’s heart drops a little more. Eddie's phone vibrating against the table cuts Buck off from yet another round of scowling, Eddie's laughter when he answers telling Buck it is one of his old team from when he was serving. Buck loves hearing about Eddie's friends, loves the way his face crinkles up with laughter when talking with any of them about happier moments they have shared. Though he doesn't think he has _ever_ made Eddie laugh quite like that. Buck lifts his head from studying his own fingers while Eddie finishes his call to find Eddie looking at him with a raised eyebrow. Buck shakes his head, and Eddie holds his gaze for a moment then relents and sighs, nodding towards the exit and beginning to stand.

Buck goes to move, but before he can even press his hands into the seat to lever himself up, Eddie is extending a hand to him and gently pulling, looping one arm low around his waist once he’s stood. Eddie leans in to kiss him sweetly, still tasting of coffee. He hums like he’s appreciating the taste of _him_ when Buck kisses back, and raises both hands to cup Buck's face, kissing him more thoroughly. Buck raises his hands and curls them around Eddie's waist, and feels him smile against his mouth.

Eddie pulls away then, tangling their fingers together and tugging him towards the door, strolling with ease and calling a soft goodbye to _barista guy _as they pass. Buck resists, barely, both the urge to hang his head in shame, and glare at the guy in belated warning.

Once back at the car, Buck moves to take his key from his pocket since he was the one who drove them in for this shift, but instead gets crowded back against it with a soft thud.

“Buck. You do realize, that I could get numbers pushed in my hand all day long, and I'd still only want to go home with _you_? Right?” Eddie says, his voice firm but amused, teasing but reassuring, and accompanied with small kisses that leave Buck wanting even more of them.

“I—”

"I don't see them. I don't see _anyone_ but you. Okay, Buck?" Eddie tells him, resting his hand on his shoulder with his thumb at his neck in the way that Eddie has done on so many occasions. It is a gesture that has never failed to make Buck melt. Today is no different. All the tension he's been holding on to evaporates just for the feel of it.

"I know," he says, and because he is feeling better already, Buck slips his hands into Eddie's jean pockets to keep him close.

"If you know, then why'd you spend the whole time in there looking like you wanted to punch the guy behind the counter?" Eddie asks with a knowing, teasing smile. It's unfair, really, that even when Eddie is _taunting_ him, Buck gets lost in just how _beautiful_ he is.

"Maybe I... sometimes maybe I forget?" Buck says, which is honest. Sometimes he wakes thinking his feelings for Eddie are unrequited; even when Eddie is still wrapped around him in a bed they share more often than not.

Eddie presses against him firmer, stealing a longer, slower kiss. "I'm yours, Buck. Always. I kind of intend to _always_ be yours. I don't care who tries to get my attention. I only see _you_."

Buck’s breath catches at the earnestness in Eddie's words, and the hint of a future together that Buck lets himself dream about but is too afraid to voice his want for out loud. He could kick himself for being like this, for needing reassurance as often as he does at times. But Buck smiles anyway, and Eddie seems to feel this is some sort of reward, because he _grins_ at Buck then, pulling him away from the car and into a hug.

“I'm yours, Buck. I'm only ever yours.”


End file.
